Concentrate and Ask Again

CO N C E N T R AT E A ND A S K AG AIN

CO N C E N T R AT E AN D ASK AGAIN Meghan Abercrombie Anna Ersenkal Jenna Hess Lauren Holtz Shelby Kalamar Cassie Lier Molly Thorne Carley Zarzeka April 24 – May 16, 2015 The Trout Gallery, Dickinson College

Outlook Good In the yearlong Senior Seminar for Studio Art Majors at Dickinson College, the faculty works collaboratively to direct each student’s creation of an expansive body of artwork. Modeled closely after a graduate mode of instruction, seminar meetings focus on weekly critique of current projects, discussions of readings, lectures on contemporary art, review and editing of the artists’ statements, field trips, and practicum instruction. In addition to regularly scheduled individual meetings with individual studio art faculty, students enrolled in the seminar meet with the entire faculty three or four times a semester for a group critique. These more communal exchanges often include art history faculty as well as underclass studio art majors. Over the course of the senior year the students participate in two important exhibition experiences. The first is a “preview” presentation mounted at the end of the fall semester. For this show each student exhibits a small number of finished works and works-in-progress.

The exhibition provides an opportunity for the students to “test the waters” with a general audience, to work through experimental directions, and to understand all that is involved in mounting a show of their artwork. The experience is traditionally very “hands on,” as the students learn to design, hang, light, and promote their show. This initial exhibition prepares the students for their final, and more expansive installation in Dickinson College’s Trout Gallery during the last weeks of the spring semester.

The eight graduating studio art majors make artwork that varies as widely in content as it does in creative media. Despite the individuality and diversity of the group, more than a few common threads unite the students’ ambitious approaches to their art. Jenna Hess, Anna Ersenkal, and Carley Zarzeka, for example, are engaged with an investigation of memory as an integral part of their artwork. Molly Thorne and Meghan Abercrombie share an interest in an almost meditative representation of reality.

Their works suggest a poetic metaphor, yet they concretely reference the physical word. Cassie Lier, Shelby Kalamar, and Lauren Holtz somewhat similarly, yet through disparate approaches, draw upon an uncanny tension between personal and popular references in their work. Together, these student artists all display an incisive awareness of materiality, a dedication to concepts that are both intensely personal and sympathetically universal, and a keen understanding of professional art practices.

The title of this exhibition directly refers to the Magic 8-Ball, a popular fortune-telling toy. “Concentrate and Ask Again” is one of the predictive answers the object displays when shaken, presumably in answer to a question. Although intended to be humorously vague, the Magic 8-Ball reference evokes the critical processes of an artist. An active and successful studio practice requires a constantly evaluative process of posing and reposing questions about the work being created. Whether framed by critiques with mentors, conversations with peers, or simply personal reflection, the constant act of “concentrating and asking again” in the studio is essential to art making. Have these eight students produced a sincere and reflective body of artwork? All Signs Point to Yes! – Anthony Cervino, Associate Professor of Studio Art

Pictured from left: Anna Ersenkal, Molly Thorne, Lauren Holtz, Cassie Lier, Meghan Abercrombie, Shelby Kalamar, Jenna Hess and Carley Zarzeka. Photo by A. Cervino.

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Meghan ABERCROMBIE In my work I explore the physical qualities and symbolic context of windows and how they function as a space for transition. Functioning as a threshold or portal between different “worlds”, windows encourage a continuation or interruption of movement between spaces. They create familiar environments in which several worlds can interact together in a single-lived space. Seen as a vehicle of passage or as a transparent barrier, windows invoke the ideas of interception and interaction within space. Focusing on these environments, I explore the intimate relationships people share with these ordinary structures. My goal is to suggest meaning beyond a study of architecture and instead emphasizes the function a window as a symbolic portal with views both real and imagined.

My work addresses the subject using a wide range of media and size, which includes large-scale charcoal drawings on paper, canvas, and silkscreen, and numerous small studies in pen and ink and various printmaking techniques. All of these images were constructed directly from my own experiences, translating impressions of familiar intimate environments inside and outside of my studios, bedrooms, and relatives’ houses. Through the observation of light and space, I then transform these familiar views into my own unique perspective.

I further translated one of these small pen and ink sketches into a larger scale charcoal drawing. In this process I drew the architecture of the window, leaving the window rendered with few details and a fog-like quality. This omission emphasizes the window as an artificial barrier instead of a passage into another world. I also have made other large scale charcoal drawings done on paper and canvas. Instead of drawing the subject with charcoal, the image takes form through by erasing portions of the fully blackened ground. The one piece on paper features a small window high up, seemingly floating in an overwhelming atmospheric darkness in which the study of light through eraser marks defines the subject.

In another drawing this same reductive manner of mark making is done on canvas, adding a unique texture quality to the drawing.

The large scale further confronts the viewer with the feelings of being uncomfortable and overwhelmed by such a barrier against transition. The ambiguous space beyond the window expresses the uncertainty of what lies ahead, left undefined so as to emphasize the journey or the obstacle that must be overcome in order to enter the world beyond.

This transformation begins with the pen and print studies, which later provide a basis for further exploration for the large-scale drawings. The studies investigate the idea of life-experience as an accumulation of views, making the window a vehicle for reflection of worldview. In particular, the printed studies play with this notion of multiplicity. Each print consists of multiple images of windows overlapped through digital manipulation by adjusting the opacity of each layer. Color is introduced into some of these prints that play with transparency in order to enhance the overlay effect of the images. In others, which are more opaque, color is removed where light plays a more effective role in exploring the idea of the window as a barrier.

The pen and ink studies of various window environments also explore the idea of accumulating views, but as a more simplified approach. Each study focuses on a specific view from a familiar environment in my day-to-day life. I share a personal connection with each space and try to convey the impact of the presence of the window on that particular environment and illustrate of the view it frames. Through this exercise I express my personal view unique to my experience.

39.9076, -74.7067, 2015, pen on paper, 11 x 7 3/4 in.

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-where, 2015, charcoal and pastel on paper, 59 1/2 x 42 in.

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Above left: 40.2052, -77.1960, pen on paper, 11 x 7 3/4 in.

Above right: 39.9076, -74.7067, 2015, pen on paper, 11 x 7 3/4 in.

Below left: 40.244, -77.2030 (1), pen on paper, 11 x 7 3/4 in.

Below right: 40.248, -77.2028, pen on paper, 8 1/2 x 7 3/4 in.

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The Object of Choice, 2015, charcoal, wood, rubber on paper, 81 x 42 in.

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Anna ERSENKAL My father passing away when I was eight has influenced so many aspects of my interpersonal relationships. I fear them, neglect them, and isolate myself from these relationships. In my studio, I have created an environment that confronts my memories and non-memories of my past and relationships with others. These non-memories are created mentally by way of photos that I relate to but had no direct part. I force myself to look into my father’s past, through portraits of him and his sister as children, with the hope of getting a better understanding of who he was as a person. I have learned more about this seemingly detached figure who inspire so many others with his charisma and wit. As I learn about different stories and interactions he had with others, I have learned even more about my own tendencies and innate qualities that have been passed to me by my father such as my desire for travel and sometimes offensive directness. Understanding who he was, I hope to learn more about myself and move forward with greater acceptance of him and myself. By tracing the places he has been, I have put myself on a journey to understand who created me and how that influences who I am. With this loss of my father, I am addressing the emotions associated with recovery and acceptance, a process that was actively avoided for much of my life.

My prints are abstracted digital monotypes from a set of thirteen original staged photographs of my father as a child. These images are the foundation of my work, the starting point from which all other pieces have come. I have explored removing these monotypes further from the appearance of the original photographs though paintings and drawings inspired by these prints. Process has become a large component of my work as I explore the traditions of printmaking while incorporating modern technology. I do not want to live in the past, nor be limited by traditional techniques. Rather, I explore alternative printmaking that has no limits and allows me to make the original image almost unrecognizable. The freedom to manipulate his image and in a way destroy it is empowering as I no longer am scared or controlled by that image. His image no longer is the image of someone who I lost but just a stand in that can be manipulated and does not have the same meaning. As I become more comfortable distorting my father’s images, I have found the beauty in distraction and in loss. I have learned that the dirtiest, rawest and even most visceral of things is truly beautiful and this has freed me to address my work and life without limits.

This series of prints has allowed me to finally push past the image of an identifiable person. Increasingly, I have become more com-

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Feretory, 2015, pigment ink transfer on paper, 48 x 30 in.

OPPOSITE Top left: Dry Plastic #12, 2015, pigment ink transfer on paper, 14 x 11 in.

Top right: Dry Plastic #5, 2015, pigment ink transfer on paper, 14 x 11 in.

Bottom left: Wet Plastic Ghost #5, 2015, pigment ink transfer on paper, 14 x 11 in.

Bottom right: Dry Plastic #7, 2015, pigment ink transfer on paper, 14 x 11 in.

fortable with the abstractions created though my varied studio processes. I am attracted to the ideas of taking a representational image of a person and reducing it into shapes and forms that are beautiful in and of themselves. These abstractions balance tensely between referencing the parent image and remaining equally detached. Increasingly my work is further exploring manipulations of both the original images but also of the abstracted results. I have experimented with screen printing and painting as a way of highlighting forms found in my prints but yet further removing them from the original photograph. I also have investigated returning prints back to the photographic medium.

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Gaze, 2015, pigment ink transfer on paper, 70 x 44 in.

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Relic, 2015, pigment ink transfer on paper, 56 x 32 3/4 in.

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Jenna HESS My studio practice involves re-interpreting childhood memories and connecting them to the present self. The investigation of self-portraiture, re-discovering self, memory interpretation, and compilation of images is the major focus in this process. My drawings focus on integrating past experiences into my re-created memories. They are made mainly with chalk pastels and oil sticks and at a small scale. I obtain the representations of past memories through photographs my parents took of me as a very young child.

When working with these photographs, I pay attention to the figures and the dynamic spaces around them. These details dictate the associations of the memories in the present. One of my major objectives in making this work is figuring out the purpose of space in narrating the stories behind these new memories.

the images as they lead up to how I am now. I examine the objects within the past memories that may help unlock some of my associations from these experiences. These objects are constructed with clear conviction and are tactile; thus they are still accessible and stored in my recent thoughts. For instance, I would examine a photograph and see a familiar wooden chair on the left side. The appearance of the space in the new memory determines if the chair is placed on its usual left side or moved somewhere else to make the memory have a stronger, intimate connection to the artist. The arrangement of the memory is a complex process. Some memories may appear to be more of a jumble of older memories as opposed to a clear, complete memory. As a result, I do not fully reclaim my early childhood memories, but I do feel closer to them.

My interest in self-portraiture and memory derives from the motivation of understanding self-discovery. I am determined to figure out the path taken to reach the present “self.� When examining this journey, I need to identify where everything started leading up to the present, thus I unravel connections between those time periods. Those connections involve consulting the events of the past within my own stored memories and physical imagery of those memories. After piecing together the pathway, I will be one step closer to recognizing all events that have shaped my identity and how people perceive my role in their lives.

The majority of these drawings derive their titles from the narrations of the new memories yet show awareness of the narrations' sources. For example, titles such as Eyes of Determination or Haunted Past are an attempt to tell the new memory through the lens of the artist, but not lose sight of who made the memory possible. Some titles may have a more personal focus than others.

It is up to the viewer's discretion to determine if the words in the title are more based on the new memory or have strong ties to a memory's original source(s). Overall, this work process has shifted from channeling frustration to sheer determination to re-interpret these memories.

I want the viewer to understand the stories within these artworks when they see them. The smaller scale conveys that these works are precious and valuable, since they are meticulously crafted.

These works contain a strong sense of color that hints at my desire for these memories not to be forgotten. The color attempts to re-interpret the past and a lot of the spaces depicted with color are meant to convey my vision of the past experiences. Within these spaces there is still an element of confusion, since there is difficulty in transitioning back into them when they have been forever changed. For example, when creating these drawings, I noticed that some of the past spaces no longer exist in my current life, thus I use blurred lines and overlapped colors to emphasize their disappearance.

In order to compile my ideas, I use old photographs as inspiration.

I look at multiple images and integrate different elements from them, carefully placing them within the new memory space, so that you cannot tell it is a compilation of different memories. I take out the memories that my parents gave me, and reinterpret

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Eyes of Determination, 2015, chalk pastel and oil stick on paper, 8 1/2 x 11 in.

Haunted Past, 2015, chalk pastel and oil stick on paper, 18 x 12 in.

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A Sturdy Hand, 2015, chalk pastel and oil stick on paper, 18 x 24 in.

Mother and Child, 2015, chalk pastel and oil stick on paper, 12 x 18 in.

Party at My Place, 2015, chalk pastel and oil stick on paper, 8 1/2 x 11 in.

Looking Back on the Future, 2015, chalk pastel and oil stick on paper, 12 x 18 in.

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Lauren HOLTZ I am interested in examining the materiality of rubber and synthetic plastics as surfaces for physical manipulation. My use of plastics and synthetics, such as caulk, fake flowers, and sparkles, comes from a personal fascination and simultaneous disgust in the human attraction to plastic material. However, many of the forms and manipulations that I use in my artwork are inadvertent references to forms found either in nature, or are constructed in such a way

Self-portrait, 2015, rubber inner tube, paint, tinsel

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that I am able to imagine them existing on either a macro or micro level of a fantastical ecosystem. I hope that my pieces speak to the viewers’ relationship to the artifice inherent in my material choices and their unique, and often humorous, combinations.

Some of the sculptures are made by making slight variations to the surfaces of found objects, as is the case with Self-Portrait.

In this wall sculpture, a typically inflated small inner tube or tire, similar to one that is often found on the front of a wheelbarrow, hangs deflated. It is painted an uncharacteristically pink color.

A hair-like stream of pearlescent fibers flow from the center of the form and falls towards the floor in a loose mass. Together this simple combination of forms suggests both the imagined filaments that might be left streaming from a chandelier after a particularly festive New Years Eve party or the enticing tentacles of an exotic jellyfish. As in this example, often my manipulations evoke a sense of tension between the materials as they are commonly understood and the ways in which they are altered.

My studio practice is process driven, allowing me to work spontaneously. Very little of what is created is premeditated, or planned out; instead my materials are chosen for their physicality, color esthetic, and their plasticity or ability to be manipulated. From there I am allowed to respond to my subconscious impulses to the forms and plastic materials that I surround myself with in my studio in an organic way. Allowing the sculptures to take shape organically, I permit myself to explore the ability for plastic to take on virtually any form and still have esthetic limitations in terms of authenticity. Often the resulting artwork is playful and humorous, I hope that the viewer is allowed a glimpse into a fanciful experience that is both eye-catching and esthetically jarring. While largely dependent on my source materials, the color palette I find myself attracted to (peachy pink, hot pinks, viridian greens, canary yellows, pastel purples, shiny metallic) is youthful and animated, as are other alterations I make to the surfaces—such as adding glitter or sequins. Likewise, the materials used in the majority of my sculptures are pulled from what might be decorations commonly used for joyous celebration, yet—to me, due in part to their vulgarity—feel satirically insincere. My intention is to entice the viewer to question how a piece was made or conceived in the same manner that I did while making it: through curiosity and intrigue in the materials and surfaces of the forms themselves. By visually captivating the viewer I hope that they are able to further question their own affinity or aversion to the plastic surfaces.

Flush, 2015, silicone, cornstarch, string

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Top: Artificial Flavor Not Included, 2015, mix media Middle: Armor, detail, 2015, metal caulk Armor, 2015, metal caulk

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Bottom: Gungling, 2015, rubber inner tube, spray paint

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Shelby KALAMAR Using the dynamics of the circus as my central theme, my work explores life as performance. My art becomes a metaphor through which I can puzzle out my manic depression; I feel like my work is very self-reflective in this sense. My studio habits and the way in which I create my work is an ever changing, confusing and often capricious undertaking. I range from being in a volatile condition of complete numbness, stemming from the depression, or in an unpredictable state of erratic impulsiveness, caused by the mania.

The constantly changing temperament of my emotions gives rise to sudden behavior changes. Perhaps surprisingly, in some ways I benefit from my shifting emotional states because it drives my need to create several bodies of work concurrently in my studio.

However, it can lead to periods where I cannot work on anything at all. My work responds to the ups and downs of my mood to such a degree that it reflects the constant ebb and flow of my actualization of each idea’s intended conception. In this way, each piece is grounded with a sense of stability, coinciding with the body of work in its entirety, but encompassing enough strength to stand alone as a single quantity.

mode of expression that allows me to physically deconstruct bits and pieces of already created work and transform them into my own. There is a performative aspect that plays out in my work. Not only of my process but also of the characters themselves.

In creating sculptural work I think about the personality of every new form. I enjoy the physicality of my work because it is what keeps me connected to each of these personalities. When building up a sculpture, I work with materials that are flexible so that there is a tug of war between where the material is pulling to go and the form I am pushing it into. The end product usually ends up somewhere in between. In this way, there is a delicacy to my sculptures. Although stable, each sculpture looks as though it may collapse. The viewer is then invited into the space where the tug of war has ended and the object embodies its own physicality with a sense of denseness. I know when a sculpture is completed when it is weighted with enough solidity and strength.

In a circus, there are many different acts that come together to make up the spectacle. Through my collage and sculptures, I am trying to capture the cacophonous atmosphere of the circus. My work is reinforced by the energy of the circus as a response to my shifting moods. The motivation to produce my art comes from a need to create a space of chaotic intimacy. I invite the viewer to enter the world that I have created in order to run away from reality. Borrowing inspiration from freak show performances and other sideshow acts that are often performed at carnivals or circuses, I create a portal for the viewer to enter into the chaotic world of the inner workings of my mind. I envision the spectator at a freak show to be simultaneously amazed and disgusted by the strangely unique individuals. Conversely, the talented performers play roles that dazzle the jealous audience who stare in awe at a world that seems so far away from the truth. When confronting my work, I imagine the viewer to gaze upon my sculptures and collages in the same manner as they would look upon the characters in a circus.

I have explored with creating collages by hand and also with the use of digital technology. I find that I am drawn to starting a collage with images that I cut out of magazines and then scanning those works into the computer and further altering them with the help of applications such as Photoshop. Generating collages is a

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Main Event, 2015, vinyl, paper, 48 x 120 in.

Two sides of the same face, 2015, yarn, string, paper, 24 x 21 1/2 in.

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Daddy's Little Girl, 2015, plastic, red yarn, found objects, wood, acrylic paint, spray paint, 60 x 16 in.

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Rounded forms balanced in space, 2015, plastic, red yarn, rope, erasers, 15 x 11 in.

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Cassandre LIER Telling stories through my art is something that is important to me. Until recently, I had always come up with stories and characters from imagination. I have progressively moved away from that method, and instead I now reflect on things that happen around me daily and how they affect my thought process. I start by taking large pieces of paper and labeling them with a date, as though they were from a journal. I then draw elements that play a role in my everyday life. Examples of subjects I incorporate into my drawings include food that I like or ate that day, people I interact with, objects I see or want, ideas that pop into my head throughout the day, feelings that I get when I think about certain things, memories. I place some elements at random on the page, and then gradually incorporate a sense of order within the page by thinking about where I want to place and how big I want to make other elements according to how important they are to me. I then work on the pieces until they represent my state of mind.

There are many, many thoughts going through my mind at once, and these giant journal pages reflect the myriad of feelings and ideas I get during a day. I do not usually get to talk about or express every thought I have in a single day, and the journal pages serve as a surface for the constant flow of ideas that goes on in my head daily. By filling these pages, I am still telling a story through my art, except this time it is much more personal than in my past works. It is important that the pages come across as personal, or even private, because I am communicating how I think and what form my feelings take on when I put them on paper.

I am letting the viewer in on my personal thoughts, my private ponderings. Some of the objects I depict may be easier to identify and understand because of how simply I have designed them. For example, on one of my journal pages, I have drawn an alarm clock with wings; it is flying off towards the top right edge of the page in a hurry. My message here is common and has many variations: “where has the time gone”, “I wish there were more time in day”.

However, I want the viewer to be attracted to other elements in the page and link the objects and concepts together and try to understand the connection between all of them. In this way, the viewer can relate to a simple concept like “time is fleeting”, and associate them to all the other thoughts in my mind. Finding a way to put them on paper allows me not only to get my thoughts out but also make room for more in-depth ideas without overflowing my mind and having too many things to focus on. These journal pages free my mind in the sense that I feel more able to efficiently

concentrate on a few thoughts at a time instead of getting frustrated with hundreds of them in my head.

Recently, I have been thinking a lot about the characteristics of modern society and culture. I am working modern technology into my drawings as a main theme of things I observe daily. Technology has been increasingly taking over people’s lives. People rarely look up from their screens, need to document everything by taking a picture and showing it on social media to obtain recognition. To show how bizarre some of these occurrences are to me, I am mixing together nature and technology. I have made some drawings of humans and animals with monitors (vintage and current) for heads. The contrast between the living creatures’ smooth lines and the televisions’ harsh and geometry produce a tension that is both appealing and intriguing for me. For example, in one of my works, I depict a rabbit, sitting, with a television for a head. The image shown on the screen is static, and by drawing this I am both trying to detract from the screen (since there is no discernible image) and guide the viewer towards the rabbit’s delicate body. By showing a natural form broken up by a technological one, I want people to decide what they are more attracted to: the indistinct image on the TV screen, or the rabbit’s smooth lines.

I have taken the idea of the rabbit with the TV head and made it into a larger series of smaller drawings. On each piece of paper I have depicted an animal along with a piece of technology with a screen for a head. Each of these drawings has been placed next to another to form a grid. By creating these, not only am I exploring the endless possibilities of character design (based around the same model), but I am also bringing all of them together within one work. This assemblage creates a relation between every single one of the characters, giving the feeling that they might all be connected to the same network. This idea relates back to mixing nature with technology, and it emphasizes my thoughts about modern society and how so many people are connected simply through a giant network (whether it be by phone, internet, or television).

Dear Diary #2, 2015, paper, ink pens, acrylic, copic markers, 42 x 40 in.

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OPPOSITE PAGE Mise en Abyme, 2015, paper, ink pens, acrylic, copic markers, 42 x 40 in.

Above left: Originators, 2015, paper, sharpies, copic markers, 20 x 16 in.

Above right: Critter grid, detail, 2015, paper, sharpie, copic markers, masking tape, 50 x 56 in.

Bottom left: Concentration, detail, 2015, vellum, ink marker, 10 5/8 x 18 in.

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Molly THORNE I have dedicated my studio explorations to making photographic imagery that attempts to capture vulnerable moments. When I take a photograph, I search for a moment and/or a subject (an object, a person, a movement, or other occurrences) that is subtle or that might be under-appreciated with respect to the traditional subjects of photography. My goal in capturing an image is to bring attention to the understated moments in my life in a way that elicits a gut, emotional response. This visceral reaction to my photographs is hopefully shared too by viewers of my work. To reach my goal and make a successful photo means that the sincerity and authenticity of the image be paramount. To facilitate capturing this suggestion of preciousness and uniquely personal moments I prefer to use the “instant” processes specific to Polaroid photography. The nearly simultaneous acts of taking a picture and seeing it developed moments later is unique to the Polaroid process.

Additionally, the Polaroid’s iconic square image format and framelike white border also cues viewers of my work to both the singular nature of my images as well as their inherent object-ness. Unlike most images in a traditional darkroom setting and digitally, the Polaroid does not lend itself to easy reproduction. The photo— the object and image—are generally understood as unique. The result is a viewing experience informed by a number of opposing referents such as familiar and bizarre, tangible and ephemeral, complicated and simple, accidental and directed, among others.

Beyond grouping, I am also interested in how these images change when they undergo a material transformation. For example, striped from their original plastic packaging, with warm water they can be transferred or repositioned onto other surfaces—such as glass. The relationship of the image to its original Polaroid format is not as important in these works as they adopt a new physical form. However it is important to the work that the images transferred are the physical photos that were produced from the Polaroid and not a reproduction achieved through scanning or other processes. During this process there is a lot of variability that occurs as the image may rip or fall in an unusual way. The degradation of the image that occurs through this variability is important in the work because it convolutes the relationship between image and object—again, blending notions of real and unreal.

My photos have always been objects as much as they are images for me. Whether printed from digital files, processed in a dark room or appearing “instantly” as a Polaroid, each image I take is something that ideally can be held and handled. The object-ness of the photo contributes to the importance of each image in my process. It reinforces the notion of individuality both among the images and in the process of making them. In an age where images are understood as culturally ubiquitous and infinitely reproducible I strive to underscore the simultaneous multidimensionality and simplicity of a single image, which exists as irreplaceable object.

polaroids as object: example

It is important to my practice that I give value to each photograph that I take regardless of how “successful” the resulting image comes out. By this I mean that all of the images I take are part of a collective process. In part this is due to how I display the images.

While some photos have an inherent capacity to stand alone, more often I look to pair or group my images and to create new and more complex visual compositions. It is important then to my process that I am not overly critical of the images as “good” or “bad”, or compare them in a way where one takes away from another. For me, all of my images work together to influence one another. When images are presented in a more collective format they are still informing and informed by the other images. All of these images are a collective regardless of their final format. My organization of the images is constantly changing and allowing for new possibilities to be recognized. Through this act of constant sorting and arranging I am trying to achieve a constantly shifting and active perspective that simulates and critiques an understanding of the “real.” untitled no. 7, 2015, polaroid, 4 1/4 x 3 1/2 in.

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untitled no. b, 2015, polaroid, 4 1/4 x 3 1/2 in.

untitled no. 6, 2015, polaroid, 4 1/4 x 3 1/2 in.

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untitled no. s, 2015, polaroid, 4 1/4 x 3 1/2 in.

untitled no. 5, 2015, polaroid, 4 1/4 x 3 1/2 in.

untitled no. 11, 2015, polaroid, 4 1/4 x 3 1/2 in.

untitled no. 8, 2015, polaroid, 4 1/4 x 3 1/2 in.

untitled no. a, 2015, polaroid, 4 1/4 x 3 1/2 in.

untitled no. 3, 2015, polaroid, 4 1/4 x 3 1/2 in.

untitled no. 21, 2015, polaroid, 4 1/4 x 3 1/2 in.

untitled no. t, 2015, polaroid, 4 1/4 x 3 1/2 in.

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Carley ZARZEKA In the work, Joint Custody, the 5-by-7-inch wooden wall-based sculpture is constructed of scrap plywood. Overlapping blue rectilinear shapes applied in oil and acrylic paint are layered on the wood’s surface. Although these colored forms intersect they are distinguished from each other by thin, black lines tracing their contours. These shapes depict two bedrooms that I lived in growing up. With divorced parents, I never spent more than a couple of days sleeping in the same room, and as a young child the constant movement between parents was a struggle for me in terms of identifying notions of “home.” The two depicted rooms that impose upon and occupy the slab-like plywood base represent one bedroom from each of my parent’s houses. Their collision in this complex space addresses the convoluted relationship I have with memories associated with those rooms and how they continue to impact my identity.

Collection highlights a nine-room arrangement, including some bedrooms that I have lived in while in college. The basic shape of each room is cut from wood and is then centered and mounted on a 5-inch square of plywood that is painted white. Together the nine squares make up a three-by-three grid with the rooms organized from top to bottom and from left to right. This configuration aligns with the order in which I lived in these spaces. The individual

Do Not Disturb, 2015, wood, oil and acrylic paint, 16 x 15 x 1 1/2 in.

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rooms are visually linked by their shared materiality and odd geometries. Just as a bedroom contributes to the overall layout of a house, each square in the grid interact with the other shapes implying a larger complex “house” that is blurred in my memory.

The construction of my work is partially process driven. While some of my artwork is meticulously planned out, like Collection, others are created as a result of a responsive working process.

Very often, the memories that I have of how each of my rooms were designed or occupied with furniture do not align with how they existed in reality. This idea of fleeting memory drives my process-driven approach. And, in the moment of making new work, I am open to the organic melding of memory, logic, and emotive reaction as I encapsulate both my recollection and present expression of a given room.

I explore the melding of space and memory in multiple mediums. One of these processes involves cutting my own stencils that I then use to apply paint to canvas or wooden forms. These single-use stencils are cut out of delicately thin and translucent tracing paper—underscoring the ephemeral nature of memory as part of my process. For example, a stencil is used in the work 4670, which shows the outline of the first room that I lived in.

To make 4670 the stencil was taped down to a pre-painted black canvas and then, using a paint roller, white paint was applied.

After removing the stencil the remaining room outline image is formed from the white painted lines. As a result of the tracing paper curling when the wet paint is applied, these reductive linear marks are inexact and unique. This process denies the understood function of a stencil as repeatable, underscoring the act of making the artwork, like the memory, as personal and inexact.

Collection, 2015, wood and acrylic paint, 17 x 17 x 1 1/2 in.

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Joint Custody, 2015, wood, oil and acrylic paint, 6 1/4 x 7 3/4 x 1 1/2 in.

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4670, 2015, acrylic paint on canvas, 36 x 36 x 1/2 in.

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Credits This publication was produced in part through the generous support of the Helen Trout Memorial Fund and the Ruth Trout Endowment at Dickinson College.

Concentrate and Ask Again was presented at the The Trout Gallery, Dickinson College from April 24–May 16, 2015.

Published by The Trout Gallery, Dickinson College, Carlisle, Pennsylvania 17013 Copyright Š 2015 The Trout Gallery. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without written permission from The Trout Gallery.

Design: Patricia Pohlman and Amanda DeLorenzo, Dickinson College Design Services Photography: Andrew Bale Printing: The Print Center, Dickinson College Printed in the United States www.troutgallery.org

THE DEPARTMENT OF ART & ART HISTORY Todd Arsenault, Andrew Bale, Anthony Cervino, Ward Davenny, Barbara Diduk, Lisa Dorrill, Susan Klimkos, Jennifer Kniesch, James Krabiel, Elizabeth Lee, Melinda Schlitt, Brooke Wiley

THE TROUT GALLERY James Bowman, Phillip Earenfight, Heather Flaherty, Stephanie Keifer, Rosalie Lehman, Catherine Sacco, Satsuki Swisher Student Interns: Jessica Cebaloos, Caroline Fallon, Taylor Hunkins, Lucas Kang, Lindsay Kearney, Anna Leistikow, Sabiha Madraswalla, Suzannah May, Giulia Pagano, Rachel Smith, Alexia Tobash